Bizarro Ned Flanders

I lived next door to some shady neighbors growing up. My parents are clean and meticulous people, so the house to the west of us was an eyesore, the proverbial yin to our yang. The neighbors were a poster family for dysfunction; drug abuse, domestic violence, unsupervised children, cross-dressing (yes, you read that correctly) and lacking in diligence for basic lawn care, car detailing and home improvement (crimes which in my father’s mind should be punishable by death). Sometimes the dysfunction spilled over into our driveway, as the unsupervised neighbor kids would hang out with us while we washed our cars or played basketball. We did not mind much; they were nice kids and could not help that their father was inside shooting smack and wearing their mother’s nightgowns. Still, you knew it was just a matter of time before the girl became a sexually promiscuous drug addict and the boy started hanging out with juvenile delinquents and stealing car stereos. My neighbors were a sad but necessary lesson to learn about life; no matter how safe you think you are, you are always close to danger.

Be careful working for Dick Cheney, Inc, cousin Mark. Kuwait City might be safe, but do not trust the neighborhood. Once I get your address a crate of contraband smut and whiskey will be imminent.

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